


Conspiracy Theories

by manic_intent



Category: Deadpool (Movieverse)
Genre: Full spoilers, M/M, Post-Canon, That Postcanon story where Cable takes on Dopinder as an intern
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-22
Updated: 2018-05-22
Packaged: 2019-05-10 05:03:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14730464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manic_intent/pseuds/manic_intent
Summary: “I swear there’s some kinda conspiracy,” Wade said. He flipped through the available assignments with a scowl. “How the fuck didallthe decent jobs dry up all at once?”Weasel industriously polished the counter instead of answering, swiping the cloth between Wade’s elbows. Sister Margaret’s School for Wayward Children was pretty quiet on Sunday mornings because some mercs liked going to church, possibly for the shits and giggles. Wade usually spent his Sundays sleeping in and/or watching Nickelodeon at the highest volume setting. Now that mercenary work had dried up though, Wade had hauled ass early over to the bar in the hopes of getting in before the competition.





	Conspiracy Theories

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt by Plagues-and-pansies: Cable can't travel back to his own time so he kind of makes his home with the others and he and Deadpool have to have a sit down to fight over who gets custody of Dopinder.

“I swear there’s some kinda conspiracy,” Wade said. He flipped through the available assignments with a scowl. “How the fuck did _all_ the decent jobs dry up all at once?” 

Weasel industriously polished the counter instead of answering, swiping the cloth between Wade’s elbows. Sister Margaret’s School for Wayward Children was pretty quiet on Sunday mornings because some mercs liked going to church, possibly for the shits and giggles. Wade usually spent his Sundays sleeping in and/or watching Nickelodeon at the highest volume setting. Now that mercenary work had dried up though, Wade had hauled ass early over to the bar in the hopes of getting in before the competition. 

“Weasel,” Wade said. 

“Yes Wade.” 

“I wasn’t asking a rhetorical question.” 

“I uh, really? Wow yeah. I mean, sure. Cool.” Weasel managed a horrible little smile. “Hey uh, there’s still paying jobs in that list? You could take those?”

“I didn’t survive special ops training, war zones, black ops programs, and gain actual fucking superpowers to—” Wade squinted at the dispatches, “—help Mrs. O’Reilly shoot her ‘no good cheating asswipe’ of a husband for $2,000. That won’t even cover my rent for this _month_.” 

“But it’d cover half your rent? It’s a start?” Weasel started to furiously polish some glasses. “Wade, we’re not even open yet.”

“Bullshit. You’re like an NPC. The bar’s always open.” Wade skimmed through to the end of the list and back. “Didn’t I tell you to drop me a line whenever any decent work came up?”

“Yes?”

“And?”

“Nothing came up?”

“What,” Wade said, incredulous, “all the criminal lowlifes upped and died by themselves?” 

“Er. Yes. That’s. Exactly what happened. They all died. It was pretty sad and terrible.”

“I didn’t see anything like that on the news.”

Weasel was visibly sweating now. “Terrible right? What the government likes to cover up? It’s a conspiracy. An Area 51 kinda conspiracy.”

“Suuure.” Wade plastered on his fakest smile. He tapped his finger on the dispatches. “Ring me up for Mrs. O’Reilly.” 

“You could take on more, uh, overseas gigs,” Weasel suggested, as he logged Wade’s name into the system for the O’Reilly chit. “Got some of those coming up.”

“Anything that’ll actually pay a living wage?” 

“Probably? Yes?” Weasel said. He flinched as Wade reached over the counter and patted him on the shoulder. 

“You’re a good friend, Weas,” Wade said solemnly. 

Weasel’s eyes were darting everywhere but Wade’s face. “Sure Wade. ‘Course I am.” 

“Where’s Dopinder? I thought he was your new intern.” 

“He uh, well, I think he went back to driving.” 

“Cool, cool. See you around,” Wade said. He sauntered casually out of the bar. Once outside, Wade scaled up the wall of the alley to the neighboring roof to wait. The bug he’d palmed under Weasel’s collar picked up Weasel letting out a deep sigh of relief. 

One hour in, the sun was starting to get uncomfortable. Besides, the pigeons roosting nearby were starting to eyeball Wade something fierce. Wade relocated to a Starbucks to spare their feathery sensibilities. He pulled down his hoodie as much as he could over his face and ordered a suitably large cup of the Satan’s Piss that Starbucks sold as coffee. Nudged into a corner of the Starbucks, Wade killed time by going through the sadly tiny Bea Arthur tag on AO3. 

Two hours in. The bar still sounded quiet. Weasel was shuffling around. Typing. At one point he answered a telemarketing call and hung up cursing. Wade was considering buying a second cup of Satan’s Piss when someone came into the bar and shuffled up to Weasel. 

“Good morning, Mister Weasel.” It was only Dopinder. Dude had gotten bored of driving again maybe. In for a late shift? 

“Hey man.” Weasel sounded weirdly nervous. “How’s things?”

“Really good! Things are really good. I’ve been learning a lot. Like how to get blood off your clothes when you don’t have soap.” 

Man probably had a shaving accident or something. Wade himself had never bothered getting bloodstains off clothes. Bloodstains on clothes gave them character.

“That’s cool, real cool man.” Weasel said uncomfortably.

“You said something came up?” Dopinder chirped. 

“Uh yeah. FBI contract. Paulie “Glasses” Gambino. He’s a made man in the Luciano Family. He’s worth ten grand dead, thirty alive. Last seen in Brooklyn.” Weasel rattled off an address. 

What. The flying fuck. 

“Thank you Mister Weasel. See you soon.” 

“Uh, good hunting man.” 

_Dopinder_ was the competition? Wade eased over to the door of the Starbucks, waiting near the racks of merch. A familiar yellow cab eventually went past, easing into traffic. Wade glared after it. Talk about betrayal. Wade had almost sort of taken Dopinder under his wing, too. Given him exposure to the mercenary life. And to near certain death, which came with the job. And now Dopinder was muscling in on all of Wade’s territory? That was just ungrateful, that was. 

Shit like that just couldn’t stand. “To Brooklyn!” Wade told the Starbucks Guy.

“Uh, you too, Wesley,” Starbucks Guy said encouragingly. 

“For the last time, it’s ‘Wade’. Fuck’s sake.”

#

Gambino had last been seen near an old brick warehouse in Greenwood Heights. Wade cased the area from the roof after changing into his costume. New chain link fence. Lots of vans in the yard at the back. Place looked like a pipeline of some sort, maybe drugs, maybe counterfeit stuff. Gambino sure as hell was worth more than his shitty bounty.

“Only thirty grand?” Wade muttered from the rooftop. “The FBI’s going through budget cuts or what? Cheapskates.” 

Still, work was work. Wade would find Dopinder, maybe let him get shot up non-lethally as a valuable life lesson, then swoop in, save the day, and take all the credit. Life would be back to normal. 

Dopinder’s cab was nowhere to be seen. Surely traffic wasn’t that bad. Wade had stolen a bike to get here, but he shouldn’t have made _that_ much better time. Also, Wade regretted not having used the Starbucks bathroom. The cup of Satan’s Piss Wade had imbibed was starting to sit heavily on his bladder as well as his sanity.

Wade was considering breaking into the nearest apartment for the bathroom when a yellow cab cruised down the street. _Finally_. Wade cursed under his breath and perched on the edge of the roof. Dopinder did a couple of passes in front of the warehouse. Not bad. Casing out the place. Wade had to give the kid some kudos. He _was_ learning. Maybe Wade would intervene when Dopinder suffered minor flesh wounds. Nothing too disfiguring. 

Satisfied, Dopinder eased the cab down the block and into a side street to hide the car. Wade hopped over to the next roof and jogged over. Maybe he’d pee against the cab while he waited for Dopinder to need rescuing. No one said he couldn’t be petty. 

Wade peeked down into the alley, just in time to see _Cable_ get out of the back of the cab. 

Wait a _fucking minute_. 

Cable still had the Awesome Gun across his back, and he had gear that looked new–he wore a small brace of flashbang grenades at his belt, boots. He’d wrapped his scarf around the weird-ass Terminator metal skin on his neck, and wore a new coat and a glove to cover the rest. He rounded the cab just as Dopinder got out, wearing a kevlar vest over his skinny frame and awkwardly stuffing a pistol into a holster at his hip. 

As Wade picked his jaw off the floor, Cable said, “You ready?”

“Ready for all the things, Mister Cable!” Dopinder said brightly. 

“Remember the rules?”

“Follow your lead and try not to shoot you in the back!” Dopinder was way too cheerful for a vanilla human who was about to step into the middle of a smackdown between an angry cyborg and the local mafia. 

“You’ve been practicing with that pistol?” Cable asked as they walked out of the alley. 

“Yes Mister Cable. I can very nearly hit the target board now,” Dopinder said. He shot Cable a worshipful stare. Wade seethed. Only one person in this scenario deserved hero worship and it should be the _actual_ hero, in Wade’s opinion. Traitor. 

Cable nodded. “Keep practicing and you’ll get the hang of it,” he said. Wade stared at the back of Cable’s head, suspicious. Was that it? Was Dopinder here as cannon fodder or something equally horrible? Why was Cable even doing merc jobs anyway? The last Wade had heard, Cable had gone over to talk to the Professor in the X-Mansion with Colossus and that had been the end of it. 

The future sure had cool tech though. Time travel, boomerang guns, orange bullet shields, shiny eyeballs… siiigh. Superpowers were so last century when tech obviously more than made up for it at the end of the world. No wonder Cable could single-handedly clean up _all_ the well-paying merc work in this part of the world. The fucking cheat. 

Wade followed them quietly over the roof until they were nearly at the warehouse. As he hopped onto the roof of the property adjoining the warehouse, Cable turned down the alley along it, coming to a stop by the fire escape. “Wade,” he said. Had the balls to sound amused. 

Welp. 

“Who’s that, eh?” Wade hissed, poking his head over the edge of the roof. “I know. It’s the name of the guy you’ve been stealing work from!” 

Cable looked up. Dopinder flinched in surprise, then waved up at Wade enthusiastically. “Hi, Mister Deadpool.”

“I’ll deal with _you_ later, Brutus,” Wade told him. Glaring at Cable, Wade said, “What’s the fucking deal with getting Weasel to take all the high paying gigs off the general dispatch? That’s cheating, that is.” 

“I didn’t ask him to do that,” Cable said.

“Bullshit. I haven’t been able to get any decent work in _months_. I’m stuck having to help people shoot their scumbag husbands! The hell are you taking up _all_ the good work and leaving crumbs for the rest of us? What is this, late-stage capitalism?”

“Christ. Is this really the time?” Cable jerked his chin in the direction of the warehouse. “You want in on this particular gig? Fine. We get it done first. Talk later.” 

“I don’t just want ‘in’. It’s my gig. I saw it first,” Wade said. He climbed down the fire escape sulkily. 

“All right. Have at it,” Cable said. He glanced at Dopinder. “What’s the score on the target?”

“Um. Paulie Gambino. Ten thousand dead, thirty thousand alive,” Dopinder said, checking his phone. “He’s still in the warehouse.”

Wade stared at Dopinder. “How’d you know that?” 

“I hacked his webcam before we came here?” Dopinder held up his phone, which had a grainy view of a middle-aged balding man in a suit, talking to someone on the side. “Looks just like the photo. Easy. The last few people I actually had to trace bank accounts and hack their emails.” 

“Wow, cab driving sure needs more skills than normal nowadays,” Wade said. 

Dopinder pocketed his phone. “I wasn’t always a cab driver. I majored in computer science back in India, but I couldn’t find work. Once a job opened up, there’d be thousands of applicants. So I came to New York, but nobody wanted to employ me for what I could do. I drove cabs instead.” Dopinder beamed. “And now I am trying something else!” 

“Seriously?” Wade said, skeptical. “Isn’t it a bit of a stretch, going from ‘cab driver’ to ‘assassin’?”

“Oh yes very seriously, Mister Deadpool.” Dopinder was earnest, at least. 

“I know you drove over that child abuser guy with your cab, but this is kinda something else. How do I say this… you’re probably going to die.” 

Dopinder’s face scrunched up into a frown. “Why? My horoscope said today was my lucky day.”

“You don’t have superpowers. Or future tech.” Wade jerked his thumb at Cable’s gear. 

“Ah, but I work hard and am very keen,” Dopinder said. “Also, most of the people who take work from Mister Weasel don’t have superpowers. He said you didn’t use to have powers.” 

“Well yeah, but I used to be special ops. So’s Cable over here. You’re… kinda not?” 

Dopinder patted Wade’s arm gently. “I’m very touched that you care about me.” 

Wade jerked back. “What? Care about what? Why the hell do you want to be a contract killer? This job doesn’t have health insurance. Cabs are pretty good.” 

“They were, years ago. You could save up and buy your own taxi medallion and then you’d be set up for retirement. But now that there’s Uber and Lyft, even if I work seven days a week, I’d barely cover my rent.” 

“Yeah well, you and me both.” Wade scowled at Cable. “Why the hell did you think this was a good idea?”

“Man has dreams,” Cable said, indifferent. “Got to respect that. You done?” 

Wade gave up. “Let’s _all_ get this over with.”

#

Dopinder put on a brave face as he dropped them both off. “Chin up,” Wade told him evilly. “It was just a flesh wound. Sleep it off.”

“I will yes. Thank you for bandaging me, Mister Deadpool.” Dopinder’s arm was liberally swathed. Ricochet from a roof sniper, bad luck—the bullet had gone through Deadpool’s shoulder and gashed Dopinder’s arm. 

“No problem. Go get some rest. And change your pants.”

“I will. Um. Bye Mister Deadpool. Mister Cable.” 

Wade watched Dopinder pull back into traffic, then he looked around. Quiet residential block. Nobody gave either of them a second glance as Cable walked towards the closest apartment block and paused at the door. “Coming?” Cable asked. 

“Right.” 

Cable’s apartment wasn’t much bigger than Wade’s new digs. It was weirdly neat and clean. No TV. Basic IKEA furniture: couch, kitchen table and chairs, futon in the bedroom. There was a rack for gear and a wardrobe. Cable leaned against the table and folded his arms. “Okay. Talk,” he said.

“Sec. _Really_ need to pee.” 

“Jesus, all right.”

Bladder duly relieved, Wade washed his hands and returned to find Cable pouring them both a drink. Whiskey, by the looks of the bottle. Cable had racked his gear and hung up his coat. They sat on the couch. “Well this is weird,” Wade said. 

Cable glanced at him. “Think I know why Weasel’s been giving me all the upper tier bounties. You don’t seem to do the ‘alive’ part of ‘dead or alive’.”

“Because it’s not just a pain in the ass but usually the people you’d bring in alive will pop right back up and screw you over,” Wade said. Even the people he tried _not_ to bring in alive but left alive by accident could fuck him over. He’d learned that lesson the hard way.

“Bounty’s higher if you bring them in alive,” Cable said. “Bigger commission for the bar.” 

“Yeah well, not all of us have your future toys. Being able to stun people and put them to sleep from ten yards is pretty cool. Didn’t even see you draw your future taser.” 

“Didn’t have one. I used my mind.” 

“Yeah, very funny.” Wade snorted. “Look, I stole your time machine thingy just that one time. And I gave it back when it didn’t work. I’m not going to steal your tech, okay? Or I’d have stolen your gun by now. It’s _only_ the coolest part of your character design. Well, and whatever lets you move objects around without touching them and shield against bullets.” 

Cable stared at him. “That’s not tech.” 

Wade squinted at him. “You’re a… wizard? I thought wizards can’t wear armour.” 

“I’m a mutant,” Cable said, annoyed. 

Wade laughed. “Yeah, fucking right. Everyone knows mutants only wear skintight spandex with lurid colours. Comes with the territory, like cheese on pizza. This is _Marvel_ we’re talking about. If you’re wearing anything else you’re either a wizard or a vanilla guy with high tech suppositories.” Or Logan. Curse Logan and his rule-bending popularity. R.I.P. 

Cable frowned. “Logan’s dead?” 

“Well technically not in this continuity as yet because he dies in the future when Xavier is old and I think Xavier is still young right now but who really knows…” Wade trailed off. “You actually read my mind? I didn’t say that out aloud?”

“Your healing factor makes you mostly immune to my telepathy, yes. But I can skim strong surface thoughts. That’s how I knew you were on the roof.” 

“ _You’re_ a telepath? I thought telepaths had to do this—” Wade put on his best constipated expression and pressed his fingers to his temple, “—to do their mind tricks.” 

“No?” 

“Mother of God, I knew the Professor was hamming it up.” Wade drained his glass of whisky and set it aside. “Why didn’t you say anything before? Wait. Does Dopinder have superpowers too or something? Is he hiding that from me?”

“No. Dopinder has no powers, as far as I can tell.”

“So why’d you take him on as an intern?”

“He said he wanted to learn, and no one else was interested in teaching him,” Cable said. “Also, he offered to help me settle in to this timeline. Things are complicated when you’re undocumented.” 

“I’d like to see an ICE agent try to arrest you.” Would be funny. “That’s nice of him and all, but Dopinder’s just going to get himself killed. Normally I wouldn’t care that much, but he’s a good getaway driver and he also makes a mean eggplant masala.”

Cable finished his whiskey and poured them both another glass. “You really do remind me of my wife.”

“Aaaand now you’ve gone and made things awkward again.”

“Pretending not to care when you do. Trying to wall yourself in so people won’t disappoint you. Doing your damnedest for people you barely know.” Cable eyed Wade oddly. “She always gave me perspective. So do you.” 

Wade wasn’t sure what to say about that, so he stuck to the last safe topic. “So… about Dopinder…?” 

“Doubt he wants to keep in this line of work.” Cable gestured at the spot on his arm where Dopinder had been grazed by a bullet. “Doesn’t seem cut out for it.”

“No shit.” 

“Hope he finds something else.” 

“No more using him as an unpaid intern, okay?” 

“I gave him a cut. It was more than what he made monthly from his cab. Didn’t you pay him?” 

“… We-ell… the standard cab fare, sure. With the occasional verbal tip. But I’m sure we can find something else for him to do,” Wade said hastily, when Cable frowned. “More importantly, we really have to work out a system where you stop stealing work from me. Preferably involves you moving to another continent.” 

“You said ‘we’.”

“Yes, well, maybe we both have some kinda shared responsibility for Dopinder since _you_ got him hurt and I maybe, sort of, a little, accidentally inspired him to join the thug life.” 

“I meant,” Cable said patiently, “that we could work together and split the proceeds. We already work well together.” 

“You mean, other than all the times you shot me in the chest?” 

“Didn’t kill you, did it?” Cable asked, because he was an asshole. He even smirked. “We could branch out. Take more than just the work available on dispatch.” 

“If you’re a mutant, can’t you just leech off the milk of Xavier’s kindness?” 

Cable pulled a face, possibly at the mental image. “The Professor and I don’t get along. I need my own finances. This world is fucked up. Can’t fix that by just opening a school and teaching a bunch of students breathing exercises.”

“Hey, breaking the fourth wall is _my_ thing.” Wade narrowed his eyes. “I prefer to work alone.” 

“Then you’d stay a competitor.”

“Threats, that’s mature.”

“It’s a statement of fact.” Cable gave Wade a slow once-over. “Fact is, I’d rather be working closely with you than against you.” 

“Closely, huh? How closely?” 

Cable smirked. “Tip to tip?” 

Wade stared at him for a long moment. “Are you actually hitting on me, or is this just us baiting the audience?”

Cable shook his head. “C’mere,” he said, beckoning. 

Ah, what the hell. Wade was maybe a tiny bit curious. He shifted over and let Cable haul him up onto his lap. Under Wade’s palms, Cable felt like solid muscle. He rubbed a hand over Cable’s metallic arm, then rapped his fingers against it. “This is seriously weird. It's at body temp, but feels like I’m poking a toaster or something,” Wade said, fascinated. “Can you feel that?”

Cable shook his head. “I can control the infected part of my body, but sensation’s dampened down. It’s a virus. Techno-organic virus.”

“The future is so weird.” Wade pulled up his mask just enough to bare his mouth and leaned in to trace the seam of flesh and steel with his tongue. Cable shivered, his hands rubbing up over Wade’s thighs and cupping his ass appreciatively. Wade was hauled closer and yeah, this was more like it. Pressed flush. Even limp, Cable felt like he was seriously packing. 

“How does this come off?” Cable growled, poking at Wade’s costume. 

“You want it to?” 

“Why not?” 

“Well,” Wade hedged, “it’s kinda not really pretty.” 

Cable snorted and kissed him, hungry and wet, tongue pressing demandingly into Wade’s mouth. Wade choked out a startled groan and opened for it, kissed him back until they learned to fit against each other, until Cable was rubbing up against Wade’s ass with greedy little thrusts. Kissed until Wade relaxed, until he was fumbling at Cable’s belts in turn.

“Get this off.” Cable plucked at Wade’s costume, his voice a notch deeper. 

“Bossy, I like it.” Wade pulled off his mask. 

When Cable didn’t even flinch, Wade got his belt off, then his scabbards and holsters. Around even Vanessa Wade had often felt self-conscious without his gear, his hands twitchy without pistols or his katanas. With Cable he felt willingly disarmed. Maybe it was because the both of them were so damaged. And it was gratifying to see Cable look him over with palpable lust—Cable, who had never seen Wade pre-treatment. He had no reference for desire and yet it was there. Felt good to see it.

“Something on my face?” Cable asked, as Wade kicked off his boots, stripped all the way down. 

“Takes all sorts, I guess,” Wade said. 

“All sorts to what?” 

“Kinda not sure why you look at me like you’re looking at Ryan Reynolds or something.” 

Cable snorted. He picked Wade up easily—hot—waited until Wade wrapped his thighs around his waist, then carried them over to the bedroom. Dropping Wade on the futon, Cable pushed his thighs open and raked him over with a hungry stare. “Don’t know who that is,” Cable said, “but yeah. You’re hot.” 

Wade sucked in a thin breath. “Why aren’t _you_ getting naked?” 

Stripped down, the metal virus looked seriously awesome. Wade kept touching it, running his hands over the dips and cords. “This is so unfair.” 

“It’s terminal,” Cable said dryly. He was nuzzling Wade’s throat, kissing down his collar. 

“Terminal, yeah. You look like the Terminator. You look like _science_.” 

“Yeah?” Cable spat on his palm—not the metal one—and curled his fingers around their cocks, stroking slowly. “You like that?”

“Who doesn’t? I feel like I’m in some sort of Bladerunner 4D porno. Without randomly stabbed women.” Wade squirmed up to lick the warm steel up from elbow to shoulder, then he twisted them around. Cable groaned as Wade followed the seam of the infection down his throat, his chest. He stroked harder, his grip faltering as Wade got past his ribs.

“Up,” Cable said, tugging at Wade’s hip.

“69? Classic. Hey, your dick looks normal, but is your cum like, normal cum, or is it more like you know, battery acid or something?”

“…Jesus fucking _Christ_ , Wade.” 

“Just checking.” Wade snickered. 

Cable grumbled but pulled Wade closer, licking after the tip of Wade’s cock as Wade kissed down the seam to Cable’s hip. The infection did bypass Cable’s rod and tackle, which showed a serious character design cowardice. Pity. Wade stroked Cable’s powerful thighs and arched as Cable took him into his mouth. It was clumsy and he was out of practice but that made two of them. Wade closed his mouth over the thick head of Cable’s cock and took in what he could, careful of his teeth, whining in muffled gasps as Cable rumbled and tugged at Wade’s hips. He rocked down into Cable’s throat and Cable let out a deep and leonine sound of satisfaction. 

Oh hell. That was hot. 

Wade tried to concentrate on giving as good as he got, but it was a losing battle. He ended up scraping his teeth against Cable’s metal thigh instead, against the jut of his hip, keening as he shoved his hips against the tight clench of Cable’s throat. His fingers dug bright crescents into the flesh of Cable’s right thigh. Cable purred, another hungry hunting-cat sound, hummed around Wade’s cock. _Gods_. Wade’s brain gave up the ghost. When he came to, Cable was licking him lazily clean. 

“Be glad I’m nothing if not competitive,” Wade told Cable as he recovered his breath, and Cable chuckled as Wade reached for him.

#

Sister Margaret’s School for Wayward Children underwent its change of management with only a few minor hitches. Nothing that Cable couldn’t stare down with his glowy eye. Dopinder still looked mildly shell-shocked behind the counter as he gave out dispatches and poured drinks in equal measure. During a lull in the crowd, Dopinder sidled over to where Cable and Wade sat at the end of the bar counter.

“I’m very grateful,” Dopinder said cautiously.

“Weasel had to conveniently move interstate for something so congrats,” Wade told him. “He’s not going to be in the third movie anyway. So you’re up.” 

Dopinder clasped Wade’s hands and looked soulfully into his eyes. “I won’t let you down, Mister Deadpool. This will be the best bar and best mercenary dispatch centre in the world. I will chase all the contacts. I will balance all the books. Clean all the counters.”

“Yes, yes, good.” Wade eyed Cable as Dopinder was called away by another merc. “You used a Jedi mind trick to get Weasel to leave?”

“He had family business elsewhere that he was already thinking about handling. Just had to give him a little push. And he was afraid of me anyway. Makes it easier.”

“Can’t imagine why.” Wade frowned. “By the way, if you’re a telepath, why the hell didn’t you just pick what you wanted out of Weasel’s brain when you were trying to catch up to us that other time? Why’d you have to kidnap him and threaten to torture him? It can’t be a movie budget thing. You could’ve just wiggled your fingers against your head.” 

“Faster this way,” Cable said, downing his drink. “So. We gonna work together or what?” He closed gloved fingers over Wade’s palm, squeezing lightly. 

“…Faster this way,” Wade conceded, squeezing back, and signalled for Dopinder to bring the list.

**Author's Note:**

> twitter: manic_intent  
> tumblr: manic-intent.tumblr.com  
> \--  
> Refs:  
> https://www.theguardian.com/us-news/2017/oct/20/new-york-yellow-cab-taxi-medallion-value-cost


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